


Skin and Shell

by Serasent



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Crab porn, Dom/sub, F/F, Impact Play, Monsterfucking, Rope Bondage, Sexy Multilingualism, Tender monsterfucking, but like, carcinization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28247553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serasent/pseuds/Serasent
Summary: World-class hitter Nagomi Mcdaniel just crashed out in the first round of the Coffee Cup, and she's having trouble dealing with it. But her wife has some ideas.
Relationships: Nagomi Mcdaniel/York Silk's Mom
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Skin and Shell

**Author's Note:**

> The porn sequel to my previous Nagomi angstfics that literally nobody was asking for, but you know what? This'll be *someone's* kink, and I wish you joy of it.

_Holden_ fucking _Stanton. The little creep had been shadowing Nagomi for_ years _, getting traded for her over and over, making her trek back and forth between Baltimore and Breckenridge again and again (even once when she was still stuck in a shell), and now he pulls this? Unbelievable._

It's Day 5 of the Coffee Cup, and Nagomi Mcdaniel is not in a good mood. When she'd heard the news, that this siesta wasn't going to be the complete rest that she'd expected (and God knows she needed it), and that the Commissioner's office were finally doing something with that stupid "Coffee style" box on the player intake forms, she'd thought, _This is ridiculous, but we might as well win it._ She'd spent so long working with her ragtag new team, training their pitching, working on their discipline (even if she hated that word), and it had been paying off. Americano Water Works were the odds-on favourites to win the whole thing, this ridiculous coffee thing was getting people excited for the splort again, and Nagomi even felt like she had the home field advantage, with the Water Works playing their home games from the fields, forests and beaches that were the Fridays' usual grounds. And then this happened.

Nagomi sits in the dugout, and applauds mechanically as Sandie Turner catches the ball at first, sealing the win for Inter Xpresso, and chants of "TAKE THE SHOT!" fill the bleachers around the white sand diamond. Holden Stanton (who else?) had scored a home run in the top of the eighth, and the game never recovered after that, a lacklustre inning and a half simply running out the clock. Nagomi turns to Silvia Rugrat, supposedly tasked with saving the series for AWW, and her left eye clouds with anger and disappointment, while the compound eye on her right sees a fragmented, splintered image of the girl's distress.

"You... You did your best," Nagomi says flatly, and gets up. She turns and walks up the beach, her emotions raging beneath her stony expression, and as the sharp, shelled presence in her mind mewls and whines for her to simply turn and walk into the waves, leaving behind the land and air forever, she almost does. But no, she knows her wife is waiting for her, and the house they share (full-time, now, since her move to the Fridays) is only walking distance away. So she turns, and she walks.

\------

The key still feels unfamiliar in her hand, light against the weight of the ring on her third finger, pink coral and black stone, as she unlocks the door to her wife's... To _her_ house.

"Babe, is that you? Is the game done already? How did it...oh." Mrs Silk comes round the corner from the lounge into the hallway, a celebratory drink in each hand, but stops dead when she sees the look on her wife's face, now fully blossomed into anger as she slams the door behind her. "Did you-"

"Of _course_ we goddamn lost!" Nagomi snaps, and Mrs Silk's face darkens with concern at the uncharacteristic spectacle of seeing her wife curse. She puts the drinks down on the side table, as Nagomi continues.

"We were _meant_ to win the whole thing, and I trained them all _so hard_ , but I'm not even normally a pitcher, and I couldn't win my own game, and then I had to just sit there and _watch_ while they threw it all away, and-" Her ranting stops as her wife presses a finger to her lips, right at the point where soft, brown skin gives way to spine and shell and jagged teeth.

"Quiet, babe. Come with me." She takes her hand from Nagomi's lips, and tugs lightly at her claw.

"Hon, I need to take a shower, I was drilling the team before the game and-" The finger comes back, stopping her words.

"No, babe," Mrs Silk replies. "What you _need,_ " and here the tone of her voice lowered, sending a shiver down Nagomi's spine at the familiar sound, "is to come with me."

Part of Nagomi, the part that clicks and groans and begs for the taste of saltwater, wants to be alone, to sit and deal with her pain, but the rest of her, the woman who has heard that voice before and knows what it means, is powerless to resist, if she even wants to. _She's right,_ she thinks. _That is what I need._

As Mrs Silk turns and walks away, Nagomi follows her into the house, her anger fading to a creeping, comfortable calm.

\-------

The bedroom is bright, one glass wall overlooking the sea and letting the afternoon sun stream in.

"Sit on the bed, babe?" Mrs Silk asks calmly, taking a small black key from the bookshelf and unlocking one of the cupboards along the wall. As she turns to Nagomi, sitting on the bed, but still guarded, still wary, she corrects herself. "Actually, I have a better idea. Knees," and as she points to the floor, that firm tone returning to her voice, Nagomi sinks down off the bed, kneeling at her wife's feet without a second thought. Even kneeling, she still comes up to the middle of her wife’s chest, so Mrs Silk only has to bend slightly as she takes Nagomi’s face in her hands and lifts her head to look at her, eye to compound eye, and her words are soothing, but laced with the same air of command. “Do you love me?”

“Of… of course, babe. Always and only,” Nagomi stammers, and the familiar words are hotter than an ump’s breath on her tongue.

“Good girl,” Mrs Silk answers, and Nagomi feels herself melt just a little bit more. “And do you trust me?”

  
  
“Yes,” Nagomi replies instantly, her tongue thick and dry with anticipation and need. Seeing a small, pointed twitch of her wife’s eyebrow, she corrects herself. “Yes, ma’am.”

“There you are. Then, if you love me, and trust me, then _believe me,_ ” and she lowers her head, planting a kiss on her wife’s forehead, “when I tell you that this isn’t your fault. You did everything you could, but you can’t control everything.”

Nagomi’s claw twitches in reflexive defiance, but she feels tears sting in her left eye.

“Do you want me to show you?” Mrs Silk asks, pulling her head back and looking into her wife’s eyes again, gauging her reactions. Nagomi nods mutely, feeling herself melt into the other woman’s touch, but she just tightens her grip slightly, looking at Nagomi sternly. “Use your words, babe. You know how this works.”

“Y-yes please, ma’am,” Nagomi whispers, the vague sense of shame she feels fading in the face of how much she needs to see what her wife has to show her.

“Good girl. Now, the usual terms apply - if you break the ropes, we’re done, no question. If you want things to stop, you don’t have to break them, you can just say the word. What’s the word, babe? You can say it just this once,” she adds, seeing Nagomi’s hesitation.

“ _Ula’ula_ ,” Nagomi answers, the reassurance freeing her tongue for the length of a familiar word. “But it’s not- I won’t-”

“Shhhhh, babe. I know you trust me, but we need to have tools. Speaking of which, I’m going to go and get some rope from the cupboard so I can take care of you properly, so you just stay there on your knees like a good girl while I’m gone, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nagomi says reflexively, her desire to resist fading even further, and her wife smiles and turns away. Retrieving several lengths of cotton rope from the cupboard, along with a few other items, Mrs Silk turns back to her wife, crouching slightly to meet her gaze.

“Now, is there anything special you want, or don’t want,” she asks, and seeing the brief tension flash across her wife’s face, adds, “or do you not want to have to choose?” Nagomi’s shoulders sag as the tension falls away from her, and she shakes her head, mouthing _Please?_ “Of course, babe. I’m here for you, I’ll take care of everything. I promise I won’t do anything we haven’t done before without asking, and I’ll make sure to check in, just talk to me. Now, can I?” She reaches for the buttons of her wife’s grey-and-blue jersey. Meeting no resistance, she slowly, tenderly undoes each button, planting a light kiss on her wife’s body every time, whether flesh or shell is revealed, and Nagomi shudders as her wife’s lips travel slowly down her breastbone. Finally, undoing the last button and kissing the hard carapace just below her navel, she pushes the jersey down Nagomi’s arms, gently navigating it past her spined shoulders and her single, powerful claw, and it finally drops to the floor. Mrs Silk pulls back a moment, admiring her wife’s exposed body, brown skin and brick-red shell, and the bright red of the boundaries between them, then crouches down and runs her fingers over the soft, sensitive shell of Nagomi’s left breast as she presses her mouth to the other, her tongue moving around her nipple in slow, gentle circles. Nagomi shivers with unconcealed _need_ at the contact, and her wife smiles, scraping just a hint of teeth across her nipple as she pulls away.

“Good girl,” she breathes. “Now give me your hands?”

Nagomi holds her hands out, and her wife ties a cuff around the forearm of her right arm, and quickly loops another length around the claw on her left. That part of her brain that still wants to rebel bristles at this, and Nagomi feels her claw twitch, in the full knowledge that she could snap the rope in an instant if she wanted. _But I don’t want to_ , she thinks to herself, or at least, to that part of herself. _I trust her. We trust her. Just hold on_. While she comforts that part of her mind, barely aware of what is happening around her, Mrs Silk’s practiced hands quickly tie a chest harness around her breasts and the spined carapace of her shoulders and arm, before murmuring, “Behind you?” Nagomi crosses her arms behind her back, and her wife fastens the cuffs to each other and to the harness, stopping there for a moment to admire her handiwork. Seeing her claw still flexing against the rope, she goes back round to look Nagomi in the eye, asking a quick, “You still okay? You know the rules, babe.” Nagomi nods, mouthing _Sorry for that_ , and makes even more effort to hold the carcinised parts of her still. “Okay, just keep in touch. Back to the bed now, babe.”

Nagomi stands, stumbling slightly from the combination of not having her hands to steady her and the sheer desire overwhelming her, but finally manages to slump back onto the edge of the bed. Her wife kneels down in turn, and still slowly, still gently, unlaces her shoes, kissing up each of her calves in turn, pressing her lips hard to the toned muscle of her right and carefully negotiating her mouth around the rough, ridged shell of her left. Finally, tossing the shoes into one corner of the room, she moves up Nagomi’s body, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and slowly pulling them down, her wife obligingly lifting her hips to free them, and gently kisses up her thighs, one skin, one shell, until she reaches the hem of her boxers. Rising again, she stands astride Nagomi’s lap, and tangles one hand in her wife’s hair, roughly pulling her in for a deep, hard kiss. Nagomi moans into her mouth at the sudden force, and Mrs Silk’s tongue hungrily explores her mouth, scraping against the jagged teeth on her right as much as caressing her tongue and her lips. Moments later, she gasps, doing everything she can to not bite down, as Mrs Silk’s free hand gently makes its way up one leg of her boxers, tracing gentle lines along the ridged shell of her left thigh until it suddenly gives way to warm, soft wetness.

“Oh babe, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you? You must want this so much,” she whispers in between kisses, Nagomi trying desperately to stay sitting up as her wife’s fingers stroke at her folds and her clit, at first gently, then getting harder and rougher, sliding a finger inside her as she kisses the side of Nagomi’s neck, hard, greedy, curling and pressing with the finger inside her and feeling every gasp and shiver from the woman under her, utterly lost to pleasure. After what could have been moments or hours, she stops, briefly sated, and looks Nagomi in the eye as she pulls her hand out of her shorts and slowly, languorously licks each of her fingers, savouring the salt taste of her wife’s cunt. Nagomi moans just at watching this, every desire replaced by the need to please the goddess before her, even the animal instinct to fight within her momentarily cowed.

“On the bed. Properly, now,” Mrs Silk hisses, stern but enticing. “And on your stomach? I don’t want to untie your hands yet,” the unspoken _Unless you want to_ hanging in the air between them. Nagomi tries to say _Yes,_ but all that comes out is a strangled whimper, so she just nods frantically and flips herself onto her front, wriggling onto the bed with just her legs and shoulders. Mrs Silk just watches, until her wife is lying face down along the length of the bed, her wetness now visibly soaking through the fabric of her boxers. “I’m gonna take these off, babe,” she says, not wanting to surprise her, and when another incoherent noise of assent comes from the other end of the bed, she grabs the waistband of Nagomi’s boxers, quickly pulling them down her legs and over her feet, discarding them onto the floor.

Nagomi, pliant and shuddering, feels a pressure that she eventually realises is her wife pulling at her ankle, and she obligingly spreads her legs, feeling the familiar sensation of restriction and the comforting touch of the rope as Mrs Silk deftly ties her ankles to the steel bedframe, leaving her unable to move beyond her torso and head, and utterly relaxed in that powerlessness. 

“Thank you babe, you’re so obliging, and you’re so beautiful like this,” Mrs Silk coos, and Nagomi feels a warm flush of contentment fill her, even as she is dimly aware of that part of her mind hissing _...no...free yourself...fight…_ , but then her attention focuses down to a single point as she feels the familiar sensation of leather tapping against her ass.

“You know what this is, right babe?” Mrs Silk asks, lightly stroking the tip of the crop across her wife’s ass, and Nagomi moans _uh-huh_ into the mattress. “Good girl, so clever, you know what I like to do with you. Now, say ten for me.”

“T...t...ten,” Nagomi stammers, using all her remaining focus just to get her mouth to do what she wants, and immediately groans as the crop swipes down on her right cheek, just where ass turns to leg, making a sharp _snap_ against her flesh.

“What’s next, babe?” Mrs Silk asks, some of the same desire creeping into her voice.

“N-nine,” Nagomi answers, and the crop cracks against the shell of her left cheek. It’s not the same pain as when it hits skin, but she feels the sudden shock and vibration of the impact, and she’s dimly aware that her wife probably hits harder on that side to compensate.

“Eight,” she offers without prompting, slightly more centred now, and braces herself, only to be surprised anyway as her wife slowly, gently drags the tip of the crop across the width of her ass, before suddenly snapping it down at the very edge of her right cheek, making her yelp with shock more than pain.

“Seven…” she whines, as the crop snaps down on her right cheek again, at the very tip of the curve of her ass, and Nagomi feels herself start to slip entirely under the tides of pain and release surging through her.

“I...hah... _roku_ ,” she gasps into the mattress, and feels a moment’s pause before her wife says, “Sure, that works,” and the crop slams into the carapace at the base of her left cheek, sending shocks through her entire body.

She hesitates a moment before the next, and Mrs Silk picks up on the hesitation, gently stroking her fingers over the angry red welts already appearing on her wife’s ass and murmuring, “You’re so good, you’re doing so well, you’ve taken so much and we’re already halfway, we can always stop if you want to, but you don’t want to, do you? No, you want to stay there and let me take care of you and all you have to do is say…”

“Five,” Nagomi provides, as much as a reflexive answer than anything else, and feels a sharp sting at the top of her right thigh, although she is vaguely aware that it was gentler than the preceding one.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Four,” she breathes, and she can almost _hear_ the smile on her wife’s face before the crop snaps down again, right on the crack of her ass, hitting skin and shell simultaneously and making her groan as she strains against the ropes on her ankles.

“Oh...fuck... _ekolu_ ,” she moans, hunting desperately for the words in the shattered remains of her mind and feeling the crop slap against the shell of her left thigh.

“Yes...please,” she moans, but no ninth strike happens. It takes her a moment to recover from her instinctual petulance in response to this, before she even realises what she’s done wrong. “Oh...sorry, ma’am. Two?”

“That’s better,” Mrs Silk grins, and the crop cracks down on her right cheek, exactly where one of the previous strikes had landed, making her scream into the mattress for a moment at the sharp, overwhelming pain, even as she welcomes the way it brings her entire life into that one spot.

“Come on babe, it’s the last one, you’re doing so well, you’re amazing, you’re so strong and you can take so much, I love you, let’s do this last one together,” Mrs Silk moans, her hand stroking at Nagomi’s ass, her legs, her back, and Nagomi feels a wave of pleasure building up inside her, beginning to overcome her defences as she grinds frantically into the mattress, and she moans, “Oooooone!”

The crop snaps. The pain hits her, but she’s not even sure where any more, as the wave of pleasure and pain crashes through her, screaming as she soaks the sheets beneath her as she comes. The walls around her heart fall away as her vision fades to white for a moment, or forever, both her eyes taking the moment of release to not focus on everything around her any more. She pants and gasps, and she feels a warm pressure at her side as her wife holds her, murmuring words she can barely understand, but she knows in some way they’re the same things she’s saying in the innermost darkness of her mind, as she in turn holds the frightened, inhuman, animal part of herself.

_It’s okay. I’ve got you. We’re together. I love you._


End file.
